The Guardian Angel
by AlexisJames92
Summary: Dante is the last person you'd expect to be a superhero; the whole city's afraid of him. His own mother can't stand him. Though when Batman sees him in action, the Justice League attempts to recruit him. What happens when Dante refuses, not wanting to leave his beloved city of Omaha behind to join some "Super Club". OC Main Character.
**An Idea I've been playing with for a while! Let me know what you guys think! Should I continue with this? Let me know what pairings you all want!**

 **May the gods be ever in your favor**

Dozens of people froze in what they were doing as a lone figure casually strolled down the sidewalk. His gait was powerful, but casual, like he didn't have a fear in the world; not that anyone doubted that fact. His eyes swept over everything once, his thin mouth set in a tight frown, his large eyes narrowed in a glare. He was angry at something. Frozen in fear, the people watched until the figure had turned a corner. Even then, they all waited about ten seconds after he was out of sight to start breathing normally again, and going back about whatever they were doing.

Dante Whitfield was about the weirdest kid you'd ever meet. From his unnaturally pale skin to his snow white hair. His eyes, which were blue, were pale enough that most people automatically assumed he was blind. He dressed like the average 15 year old, but he was too tall for his age, reaching almost 6'2" he looked like an adult. It didn't help that he carried himself in a way that was unnervingly mature for a freshman in highschool. Maybe it was because everyone was scared of him, maybe it's because his own mother preferred it when he was out of the house, maybe it's because every time he looked someone in the eyes, they'd flinch. In any event, Dante was a bit of a bully.

Alright, I'll amend that: he was downright cruel.

That's not to say he would go after random people and beat the crud out of him, but when you pissed him off, you didn't walk away unscathed. In fact, you were lucky if—by the time he was done with you—you were able to walk at all. Dante also had a "To Kill" list a mile long, and it didn't take much to be put on it. But once you were, you lived in fear until you managed to make it up to the mysterious teen.

Not that anyone has ever been able to.

As far as the people in his town knew, he _hadn't_ actually killed anybody, and they took a small amount of comfort in that. However, they all knew that, without a doubt, if Dante wanted to, he could. When he walked down the hallway in his school, no one spoke and they moved cautiously, like they were afraid that if they did anything too suddenly, they'd set off a bomb. His teachers never called on him in class. He was never given detention. He had, however, been suspended more than any other kid in his year. Not that it bothered Dante. He was a genius, no doubt about that. He slept through all of his classes yet managed to pull a perfect score in every class. If he was perfect without trying, they were afraid what would happen if he actually applied himself to anything.

As far as the city knew, Dante had no hobbies or friends. He wasn't interested in any after-school activities. He'd never participated in anything even involving the idea of being a game. Not even when he was really young. He'd always stood off by himself. He never went home, it was common information that his mother hated him. A good half of the community actually blamed the mother for how the boy turned out. The other half sympathized with the mother for giving birth to a "demon" like that. But because he never went home, he basically lived in the city park. He slept on the benches, sat drawing in a notebook under the trees, lounged by the fountains, watching people walk by. Occasionally he would stop by the library and check out a dozen books, only to return them all the next day.

Not even the police messed with him; they were all too scared to. He was so well known, and so feared, that "I had to take a detour because of Whitfield" was a legitimate excuse for being late to a class and "That Whitfield kid was outside my house this morning" was an accepted excuse for adults being late to work.

If you asked anyone in the city, they would say that when "Whitfield" grew up, he'd be a villain terrible enough to give that clown from Gotham a run for his money. The City of Omaha held its breath as she watched the boy grow older, more powerful, and more feared

***1047***

Dante knew people were afraid of him, and it hurt.

Bad.

All he'd ever done was help the city, every night he'd don his father's old suit and soar through the sky, keeping a careful eye on _his_ city. This beautiful city. It was his. Every cobblestone on the ancient streets. Every leaf on every tree in the park. Every skyscraper that stood in defiance against the clouds, every rundown apartment building that held a family. He knew all of it, and it knew him. He loved this city with every fiber of his being, just like his father before him. He'd give his life for the city in a heartbeat, and it didn't bother him.

After all, his father had died defending it. It would be an honor to die in the same way.

Dante could never figure out why the people were so afraid of him, sure he looked a little wonky…and he didn't really have any friends…and his mom hated him…and, _okay_ he felt weird just randomly smiling at people…but surly he wasn't that terrible?

He didn't have friends, because if anyone was close to him, they would be a target for his enemies. Just like his mother had been for his father. And he "glared" at people without really meaning to; he just had a lot on his mind. And his mom didn't _really_ hate him—Dante hoped—she just didn't approve of…what he was.

He sorta blamed his dad for that. His old man had lied to him mom for years about what he was. His mom had only found out the night before he'd died in an attack, she'd never gotten over it. When she found out that her late-husband's "freakiness" had "carried over" into their son, and that their son had decided to follow in the footsteps of his father, she flipped.

She'd kicked him out, thinking that it would get him to change his mind. But it didn't. He'd "moved in" to the park. The police that patrolled there didn't seem to care. And whenever it rained, he'd crash in a condemned building. When it got too cold, he'd sneak into one of the many churches and sleep on the pews. He'd do odd jobs for people in exchange for food, a nice old who ran a local Chinese Buffet let him eat some of the leftovers at the end of each day. He lived a good life, he thought. And his city at night was beautiful. Strings of lights were up year round, bathing the streets in a soft golden glow. The trees were always wrapped in Christmas lights; no one ever bothered taking them down.

Gods help any criminal who tried to mess up this little piece of heaven he had.

***1047***

Batman groaned as pain, a dull throbbing, covered his back where he'd made contact with that last brick wall. He sat up, shoving the large pieces of debris from the demolished building off of him. You think he'd have learned by now: Joker plus wrecking ball equals Ouch.

"Sir?" Alfred's voice crackled unsteadily through the half-broken communicator in his cowl. "I'm following the tracking signal coming from the device you planted on him. Seems he's heading out of the city. Might I suggest coming home to rest before giving chase?"

"Can't" Batman said shortly as he started towards the Batmobile.

"Sir" Alfred said, more firmly this time. Batman felt what little was left of Bruce Wayne inside of him, crumbling. This _was_ the man who'd raised him. "I've already had Masters Richard and Timothy come in for the night. I _suggest_ you do the same."

Silence. And then "Fine." Ten minutes into the drive home, Batman stopped sulking and opened his end of the communicator again. "Any idea where he'd headed?"

It was Nightwing who answered. "He's heading West. He's going top speed in that Heli carrier. Might not be stopping any time soon, but I'll keep an eye on him. When he does, I'll go after him."

"Don't bother" Batman fully intended to go after the freak himself.

"Master Bruce," came Alfred's voice once more, sounding weary and slightly exasperated this time. "You have a meeting with Mr. McWade in the morning."

"Who?"

 _Sigh_ "The CEO of McWade Enterprises?" This was Robin, Tim. He sounded tired, he'd been up too late. "You and Fox are trying to close that—"

"Yes I remember," now, Bruce added silently. McWade specialized in medicinal experimentation, as well as certain fields of robotics. Lucius and McWade had been talking about a Market Extension Merger, since Wayne Enterprises didn't have as extensive of a medical branch, and McWade hasn't been focusing on their robotics development as much as Wayne Enterprises has. Unfortunately, McWade insisted on meeting Mr. Wayne before coming to an official decision about it. Batman respected him for it, but it was still inconvenient.

"Mr. Fox has already informed me that he will be by around ten tomorrow," Alfred told Bruce firmly before he could ask for the meeting to be postponed a little longer. Bruce huffed out a breath. "You both are expected in Omaha by noon. You can't be late."

...

"Fine"

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